


That Time at Scott Bradlee's

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-13 06:44:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2141028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>London 1965: When Mycroft Holmes gets run over by a young Cop he imagines it to be nothing but an accident after which he can go on with his life like before. But Gregory Lestrade, the police man with a fancy for breaking the law, who introduces Mycroft to the one place in London where no one cares about the authoritarian personalities and love is just love, turns Mycrofts world upside down.</p><p>(Lestrade is no D.I.; homosexual relationships are illegal; Mycroft is in his 30's in this one)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language I hope I didn't make too many mistakes. I rated this fic M because I'm not 100% sure what will happen in the following chapters.

_That_ evening in summer 1965 started off like any other evening of the year.  
Mycroft Holmes was on his way home, his umbrella in the one hand, the leather bag in the other.

Mycroft was certain that again he had done most of everything at work while all the others had tried to do something useful with their little fish-brains but they hadn’t really been useful.

Just like any other day he was a little annoyed about that when he took the corner to Fleet Street and wondered if he should rather get a cab instead of walking.  
Like any other day of the year he decided to walk. He didn’t like cab drivers that tried to do conversation with him.

But unlike any other day someone bumped into him when he turned left at Ludgate Circus into Farringdon Street.

Mycroft, prepared for anything, swung his umbrella and had almost hit the young guy who had bumped into him over the head.

“Wow it’s okay, I’m sorry, mate”, the man said and looked at him, ready to duck away under Mycroft’s umbrella any second.

Mycroft lowered his umbrella. “Excuse me”, he said, watching the guy closely.  
The work at the MI6 clearly made him paranoid.

The guy in front of him seemed a little nervous after Mycroft’s “attack”.  
He was tall, not as tall as Mycroft though and his hair was dark black. Probably he was a police inspector, Mycroft could tell by his belt and the way the man had moved when he had almost hit him, also he was very young. He could be 27 at most and he was really good looking.

“Are you okay?” the guy asked after a while, in which Mycroft had said nothing but deduced everything he could about his opponent.  
“Yes”, Mycroft answered. “I am sorry for almost hitting you over.”

“No problem”, the young policeman said waving off. “Hey, aren’t you that guy that’s been in the newspapers?” he asked then.

Mycroft sighed. Those stupid London Times had printed an article about the MI6 and of course they had to mention him, but not that this was enough they also had to put a photo of him in there. Luckily he never did street work.

“Yes I am”, he answered shortly.

“Was a good article”.

Mycroft shook his head. “No it wasn’t”, he disagreed. “Besides that the writer’s grammar and spelling were horrific the article was full of things that are only half true or not true at all. And rumours shouldn’t be put in an article of the London Times.”

The guy shrugged his shoulders. “I thought it was interesting. But whatever… I’m Greg by the way.”

He extended his hand to Mycroft.

“Mycroft Holmes”, Mycroft introduced himself and took Greg’s hand. “Do you have a full name?”

Normally Mycroft tried to keep his conversations with normal people as short as he could but in some way he found his opponent interesting. He couldn’t tell what it was.  
He didn’t seem smarter than the average person and it wasn’t his good looks but something about him made Mycroft curious.

“Gregory Lestrade”, answered Greg and gave Mycroft a half smile.

“You’re going home, Gregory?”  
It was no real question. Mycroft had already deduced that Gregory Lestrade wasn’t about to get home, but he was certain something like this would keep the conversation going.

“No”, Gregory said, “I’m meeting some friends at a Bar nearby. You could join us, it’s always nice meeting new people”, he then added quickly.

Mycroft couldn’t have disagreed more. If he hated anything it was meeting lots of new people and going out but he didn’t start a discussion about that.

“Rather not” he just turned down the offer “I don’t really enjoy being around most people. Most people don’t enjoy being around me either.”

“Oh”, Gregory said, “Okay. Maybe you change your mind some time. Then you could call me.”

“I don’t have your number”, Mycroft said.

It would have been easy to find out of course but he wasn’t sure if Gregory Lestrade was just trying to be nice. This was kind of the friendliest conversation he ever had had with anyone that was not his mother.

“Right. Wait I’ll write it down for you. Do you have a pen?”

Mycroft opened his bag and took out a pen and a piece of paper.

“Thanks”, Gregory said and scribbled down his number. “Really, if you change your mind call me any time and we go out.”

This didn’t really sound like the offer to go out with friends anymore but Mycroft didn’t say anything. The probability of getting arrested for assuming a police officer was gay wasn’t very low.  
Although it would have not bothered him if this had been the case he better didn’t risk the question.

Deductions about someone’s sexuality had never been very easy to Mycroft neither deductions about how people felt and this time was just the same as always.

Mycroft shook his head to get the thoughts about Gregory’s sexuality out of his mind. He didn’t even know why he was so interested in this, he had never before cared about if someone could just potentially be interested in him or not.

“Everything fine?” Gregory asked when he gave Mycroft the piece of paper he had written his number on.

“Yes. Why?”

“You were shaking your head. I thought maybe something was wrong” Gregory answered.

“No”, Mycroft said a little too fast, “Everything is very fine.” He put the piece of paper with Gregory’s number on it in the pocket of his suit.

Gregory gave Mycroft that half smile again and he had to admit he found that kind of attractive. Not that this would have been legal.

“I better be off. I’ll be late”, Gregory said then. “Was nice meeting you, Myc”.

“It’s Mycroft”, Mycroft corrected Gregory, “I hate any kind of nicknames, Gregory.”

“Well, I hate my full name, it’s Greg. So I think we’re even.” He chuckled a little. “See you”, he added before hurrying off in the direction Mycroft came from.

“Until whenever”, Mycroft mumbled and watched Gregory disappearing around the corner.

Mycroft Holmes took a cab home that evening. He didn’t do conversation with the driver but he watched the city passing and smiled a little as he thought of the little piece of paper in his pocket.

He didn’t need it anymore, he had read and remembered the number when Gregory had written it down, but he had yet kept the little piece of paper.  
Just in case he forgot the number.

He never forgot anything.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been three days since Mycroft had pinned Gregory’s number onto his notice board next to his telephone.

He owned a very new telephone. A western electric Model 1500 telephone with pushbuttons, which was first produced in 1963, two years ago. 

Actually Mycroft didn’t know why he owned a very expensive telephone from the USA. He never really called anyone.   
Sometimes he talked to his mother or brother on the telephone but therefore he didn’t need the newest model available.

His thoughts travelled from telephones and phone calls with his brother or mother back to Gregory’s number on the notice board.   
He didn’t have to look at it to remember it. 

He looked at his watch again. Half past seven in the evening. It was the perfect time to go out actually.

Finally he picked up the earpiece and dialled Greg’s number.

“Lestrade”, Greg answered the phone and sounded as if he were eating something. Maybe Mycroft had caught the wrong moment to call.

“It is Mycroft”, he said and waited for Greg to say something again.

“Mycroft”, Greg mumbled, “Myc, that guy I ran over!” he remembered. Mycroft obviously had left no true impression and that frustrated him a little.

“It’s Mycroft”, he corrected Greg like last time they met, “I hate any kind of nicknames. I already told you.”

“Oh yes”, Greg said, “I remember. So, I assume you call because you’d like to go out?” 

What a deduction. Anyone and their mother could have guessed that but Mycroft didn’t say it.   
He had been taught that people who didn’t understand him considered sarcasm, in most situations, rude and arrogant.

Lets face it: No one really understood him.  
His brother Sherlock came the closest to understanding Mycroft. But Sherlock was still not as smart as him and a twenty-year-old junkie who had been thrown out of university for sneaking out at night to solve a murder case the police couldn’t solve.

So Mycroft just said: “Yes I thought it might be nice”.

Greg laughed and Mycroft asked himself what he could have done that was so funny.

“I think all my friends have to work but we could still go out”, Greg then answered, “If it’s okay for you that we’re only two people.”

“Yes of course”, Mycroft said. ‘I said that too fast’, he thought directly afterwards and now would have liked someone to tell him what an idiot he was. 

“Nice”, Greg just said and Mycroft imagined him doing that half smile. “Do you know that bar at Friday Street?”

Mycroft didn’t even know where Friday Street was but he would take a cab.   
“No”, he admitted.

“It’s a nice place called Scott Bradlee’s. Can you make it there in half an hour?”  
For some reason Greg didn’t seem to find this situation awkward. For him it seemed to be totally normal.

Mycroft on the other hand did this for the first time in his life.   
He didn’t know what was the matter with him in the last days but he had thought a lot about Greg, a person he had just met, and he had felt weird.

“Yes I think I’ll make it.”

“Till then”, Greg chuckled and hung up.

Mycroft grabbed his umbrella.

He turned up at the bar fifteen minutes early and decided not to go in even though it was raining outside. Mycroft just stood in front of a bar with his umbrella, hiding a little bit of the big red lettering saying Scott Bradlee’s. 

When Greg turned up he smiled as he saw Mycroft.   
“You could’ve waited inside, you know?” he said.

Mycroft nodded. “I didn’t want to”, he answered simply and he meant it.

“Would you like to get in now?” Greg asked. He seemed a little confused. “Yes”, Mycroft said.

Scott Bradlee’s wasn’t a stereotypical bar. It reminded Mycroft a little of the way bars looked in movies from the twenties or thirties. The air was full of the smoke of bad cigars and everything was a little classier than Mycroft had expected.  
The music was live and very vintage. 

Greg took off his jacket.   
“This place’s really cool”, he said, “Always nice people here. And the music’s good.”

“You think so?” Mycroft asked. He wasn’t sure if he liked it but then again he hadn’t been out often in his life. This was probably better than most other bars in London.

“I don’t think so. It’s just true”, Greg explained to him. Mycroft had never understood that way of thinking about opinions.

“Does the band always play here?” he asked in need of something to talk about.   
“Yes”, Greg nodded, “They’re called Postmodern Jukebox and they play a lot of old school stuff like twenties, thirties, fourties vintage. Lets sit down then. Most people I know don’t come here on work days.”

They went to a little round table near the small stage and sat down. 

“So you’re not going out very often?” Greg asked Mycroft when they had sat down. He looked curious in a way Mycroft didn’t hate. That feeling was new to him. He shrugged his shoulders. “Not really”, he answered. 

“Then”, Greg looked directly at him for a moment, “Why go out with me?”  
Mycroft never had been so glad for an interrupting when the waitress came over.

“Hey Harry”, Greg greeted her.   
“Hello”, she grinned widely, “What you doing here on a Wednesday? Brought a date?” she added with a look at Mycroft. 

“Wouldn’t that be illegal?” Mycroft asked. It was a rhetorical question but the waitress burst into laughter. 

Most people made a rather serious point about homosexuality. Mycroft didn’t understand.

“He’s new, isn’t he?” Harry asked Greg after she had stopped laughing. Greg grinned widely. “Seems so” he answered. Suddenly Harry’s face turned serious. “But he’s not one of that people. Is he?”, she whispered then. “I don’t think so”, Greg said. 

“Excuse me, what are you talking about?” Mycroft interrupted them. He felt a little pushed out of the conversation. 

“Oh I’m sorry”, Harry apologized, “I’m gonna leave you two alone so you can enjoy your evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm sorry this chapter is pretty boring.   
> I promise the next ones'll get better.  
> Might take me another infinity to upload the next one though. Ashes on my locks  
> Thanks for the support and Kudos I got on Chapter 1


End file.
